


The World Might End

by agoodwoman



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, MSR
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-12 12:49:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4479821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agoodwoman/pseuds/agoodwoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is going to be a series but so far it's just the one. After a conversation with Dani and Ali, we got the headcanon that Mulder and Scully may have kissed before the Millennium kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I remembered your birthday, this year, didn't I Scully?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gilliandersob](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilliandersob/gifts), [markelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/markelle/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The List, Mulder said "I remembered your birthday this year, didn't I Scully?" and she blushes a little. This is my theory behind it. And I'm sorry this story isn't in chronological order. This chapter is February 1995

February came and the streets of DC were frigidly cool at night and crisp during the day. The month was almost unbearable at the FBI offices with secretarial pools hanging red hearts on office doors and little Cupid cut outs in bathrooms. By Scully’s birthday some of the women had broken hearts and the slick agents who took them out and never called them after the third date were sulking that their reputations had been tarnished among the secretarial pool. Men never seemed to learn that while men discuss sex, women discuss specifics.

“He showed up 30 minutes late, we missed our reservation and I paid for the cab because he ran out of cash.”

By their third year of working together, Scully stopped getting invited out by her old classmates for a birthday drink. Ellen was busy at home with the kids and Steve, a husband that worked 65 hours a week and did nothing at home to help out.

Mulder had been sweet about the fact that it was her birthday to the extent that he acknowledged it. He bought her a card that was completely generic, took off at lunch so she could write their latest report for Skinner in peace and told her to have a good night before leaving early at 4:45.

She pulled into her parking space in front of her building and looked across the seat at the bag of groceries she bought. Her mother was meant to come over for supper but canceled due to a stomach bug that hit her after breakfast.

Slowly, she made her way into her apartment, picking up her mail from the central box inside the front door, greeting her super before opening the front door. The lights were on in the living room and kitchen while Mulder was sitting on her couch.

“Mulder?” she asked.

Mulder cleared his throat as he stood up, his work attire long gone and dressed in a dark sweater and faded black jeans. “Uh, hey Scully.”

Scully saw his leather jacket thrown over the arm chair adjacent to the couch and his shoes were near the door, sloppily laying next to the sneakers she had kicked off in a rush that morning.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, wondering why she gave him a key last year. Oh yeah, she had a houseplant she didn’t want to die. It did anyway.

“I, uh, I thought we could get some dinner,” he said, clearing his throat again. “You know, for your birthday.”

Scully gave him a quizzical look. “Did my mother put you up to this?”

“No, uh...” Mulder’s cheeks flushed and she realized this was all his idea.

“Oh.”

“So I guess that’s a no?” he said, looking down at his thumbs, shifting back and forth from foot to foot.

She suddenly saw him as he could have been at 15. Tall, thin and probably not as suave with woman as he was now. “Give me ten minutes to change.”

Mulder’s face started to brighten and he nodded quickly, flopping himself back down on the couch.

Since he was dressed casual, she opted for a pair of jeans and a light sweater, hoping whatever Mulder had planned kept them indoors.

In the car Scully gave him a warning, no happy birthday singing from him or any staff and nowhere with the average price of the menu was under $5. She said if he was taking her out, it wasn’t for diner food.

“Not to worry Scully, I have somewhere good in mind,” he said with a wink and she wondered if she should have specified that the staff had to be fully dressed.

Needless to say, she was more than a little relieved when he drove them to an Italian bistro they’ve been to in the past. It’s quiet, the prices aren’t bad and Mulder gets to eat all the warmed sourdough he can before their meals arrive.

They shared plates of penne carbonara and shrimp scampi, a bottle of white wine and when they were finished he paid the bill upon his insistence.

“It’s your birthday, Scully,” he said as he signed his name on the credit car receipt. “Can’t let the birthday girl pay on her own birthday.”

They walked around the neighbourhood of the restaurant and bought hot chocolate from paper cups with real whipped cream. Mulder watched her mouth after each sip, the cream from the hot chocolate sticking to her lips and she licked them more than usual. He found he was doing the same, possibly as an involuntary response to watching her. Eventually they found themselves standing outside the National Portrait Gallery. Mulder took her hand and walked her around to where it said “Staff Only” and when Scully started to protest, Mulder knocked on the side door instead answering her.

A security guard opened the door, shook hands with Mulder and told him they had two hours. Mulder took a pass and a key card from him and lead Scully through the halls, past an office full of cameras and security crew and out to the main halls.

“What are we doing here?” she whispered, stepping close to him and looking around as though they would be busted for their trespassing at any moment.

“Why are you whispering?” he asked, whispering back. Scully made a disapproving face and straightened her back. “The security manager owes me more than a few favours, Scully. The place is ours for two hours.”

“Okay, but what are we doing here?” she asked.

“You said you wanted to see the Profiles of Saint-Memin in America and you’re always complaining we only eat diner food or watch bad movies when we’re on the road,” he explained as they walked through the hall and sat on the bench near the portraits.

He was repeating something she thought he was ignoring on a case last holiday season when Camp Christmas aired in the background while they were pouring over case notes. She muttered she would miss the exhibit before seeing this god awful movie on television for the fifteenth time. She didn’t anticipate Mulder would file that information away and plan her a birthday surprise.

“Elizabeth Ann Seton was the first native-born citizen of the United States to be canonized by the Roman Catholic Church,” Mulder said as they stared at her portrait.

“She established the first Catholic girl’s school in the nation in Maryland,” Scully replied.

“So that’s who I have to thank for those little skirts,” Mulder joked and they shared a laugh.

“If they’re shorter than knee length or the tips of your fingertips Mulder they’re unacceptable,” she reminded him, remembering the Barclay Hunting tartan of her school uniform that Melissa was forever pinning up and being sent home for. “That’s a strike.”

“You, Scully?” Mulder asked in shock. Of course she would attend a Catholic School. The Captain would have nothing less than school uniforms, strict rules and boys far off campus.

Scully’s cheeks flushed, knowing where Mulder’s mind was traveling to.

“Tell me about the uniform,” he asked, his eyes wild and interested in every detail she could tell him.

Since the dinner was good, the walk to the museum and they were there after hours, she decided to indulge him. She would probably regret it later.

“We had a Barclay Hunting Tartan skirts, heather grey vests worn over white long sleeved blouses and white knee high socks. Navy blue blazers for the winter time or blue cardigans if you skipped the sweater vest,” she was drawing a lazy pattern between them on the bench. “We used to pull them higher around our waists when we were in town getting lunch or shopping after school on the way home. Get a soda from the boys at the sister-school.”

“Scully,” he breathed her name like a reverie.

“I was fifteen and liked the attention,” she shrugged. “I had a bit of a chubby stage before that so the opposite wasn’t completely terrible. However when my father was home from a tour, that didn’t really play very well.”

Scully slowly looked up at him beneath her lashes and couldn’t quite make out what his face was telling her.

“What?”

“I just.... I’m really glad I brought you here,” he said with a smile and a shake of his head.

“What was your high school like?” she asked, hoping he wouldn’t ask her cliche questions about snake handling.

“Massachusetts private schools have a much different vibe than the segregated Catholic schools of San Diego,” he replied glibly. “Excellence in academics was paramount and most of the girls were too busy trying to get into Brown or Vassar or Sarah Lawrence than worry about whether they had dates.”

Scully frowned. “You don’t mean-”

“There were a few girls who rowed crew but no, I just mean that those girls families paid a pretty penny to be there and anything below 80 per cent was academic probation,” Mulder said. He wanted to talk more about Scully but worried he missed his moment.

When she looked back at the portrait of Elizabeth Ann Seton, the frown disappeared.

“Why did you want to visit this exhibit,” Mulder asked.

“The paintings of Saint-Memin are interesting. Our founding fathers, Native-American warriors in a time when our country was trying to become who it was,” she breathed.

Mulder could appreciate the history as she did and the pioneer in Elizabeth Ann Seton, an individual dedicated to the education of young women. His gender never allowed him the discourse of discrimination and he would always have the upper hand in life. White, heterosexual male with pretty good vision and a trust fund he didn’t like to think about. He wondered about Scully applying to post-secondary education institutions if they looked at her applications differently because she was a woman. If applying to medical school if the board wondered if she would be a doctor in five years after she was finished or a mother at home, a baby on her hip and a medical degree dusting in a drawer. Little did they know she would trade her scrubs and scalpel (usually) for a blazer and sig sauer. They didn’t know she spend most of her days with a man with otherworldly theories and nickname her Mrs Spooky.

Mulder leaned in and she turned, just as he planted his lips firmly against hers. Scully was surprised at first but closed her eyes and reveled in the moment, allowing the feeling of his lips against hers to be the only thing she was thinking about then. He kept his hands politely on hers, the kiss fueled with more than just friendship yet not passionate enough to be totally crossing the line. Not like the last kiss they shared.

She opened her lips slightly and he slipped his tongue into her mouth. She allowed it to play there and he slipped a hand into her hair to kiss her thoroughly.

When she pulled away they were panting a little and she was blushing. “Mulderrrr. We said we can’t.”

“You seemed to forget that on my birthday,” he reminded her. It wasn’t as planned as her birthday. He had plans with the Gunmen later and since she wouldn’t see him that night, she leaned in before she left for the day. He was dumbstruck at his desk as she pressed her mouth to his, slipped her tongue into his mouth and let him taste the mint she had been sucking on after their late lunch.

It wasn’t a kiss with as much intent but it had the same sentiment. Happy birthday, my friend.

His birthday was another not first kiss that had been lingering in Mulder’s mind since their first kiss. He shouldn’t have started kissing Scully. He couldn’t take it any further but he knew once he started kissing her, he wouldn’t want to stop kissing her. He could only imagine that the rest of her tasted as amazing as her mouth. He had been tempted to take it further, slid a hand where it shouldn’t go but as long as it was just kissing, it wasn’t crossing any lines. That was more than just a lie they told themselves. The occasional kisses were more than just pecks on the lips. When they happened it was charged with more than platonic feelings of camaraderie and the way two partners do. Scully was sure that Dennis Hoynes and Jason Brickman never made out on either of their birthdays.

Their lips met again, throwing all caution to the wind and they passed the next twenty minutes exchanging air, with soft moans and fingers gripping non-sexual body parts. Hands and fingers grasped at arms, elbows, knees and belt loops. Staying clear of sex organs that were dying to be touched or rubbed.

When they parted Mulder cleared his throat and checked his watch. “We should go.”

“I’m sure we’ve given the security guards enough to talk about,” she mumbled, wiping the corners of her mouth.

“I asked them to turn the cameras off for this exhibit,” he assured her, holding his hand out for her. “If I hear anything about this there’s some very sensitive video tapes of the crew defiling an ancient Egyptian exhibit that might get on the news.”

“I don’t want to know anymore,” she said, holding her hand up.

Mulder laughed and lead her through the halls and down to the basement. The security guards were watching a movie on one of the screens. A middle aged man nodded to him and flicked a switch on the keyboard, the screen of their exhibit room going live again. Scully followed Mulder out into the cold night air and they walked silently back to his car near the restaurant.

“I had a good birthday, Mulder,” she said quietly as he started the car.

Mulder nodded once and pulled out onto Pennsylvania Avenue and they shifted back to who they were before the night began with the taste of each other still on their lips.


	2. After Eddie Van Blundht

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I updated this a little after reading it last night. After Ed Jerse, after Eddie Van Blunht, Mulder kissed her but not for the first time.

She showed up at 7:45 to Hagel place to the smell of curry and other aromatic spices simmering from behind the door of Apartment 42. For the last four years that Scully had known Mulder, when any food smell was emanating from behind his door, he had ordered in.

Scully knocked again and within moments he opened it, wearing a bright red apron over his white shirt and ash grey slacks. He hadn’t changed since he got home half an hour ago and she was a little unsure of what she was witnessing.

“Mulder?” she asked as he ushered her inside.

"Hungry, Scully?" he asked, taking the files from her and easing her thick long coat from her shoulders.

The apartment looked and smelled clean. What was even more strange is that the television was off and music was playing softly in the background. It wasn't Al Greene but something similar. 

"Are you expecting someone?" Scully asked, her brow furrowed. She had the distinct feeling she was about to interrupt something.

Why would he have called her there to bring the Highland file if he had a date coming by? This was beyond embarrassing and awkward. She knew he didn’t have much for a social life but surely this could wait if he had a date.

"Just you," he said simply and hung up her jacket. "Red or white?"

"White," she replied without thinking.

Not worried about being obvious, she looked around the apartment and tried to see if anything else was different. Mulder came back with two generous glasses and clinked his tumbler against hers.

"Cheers."

This time, he didn’t choke on the first sip.

Scully raised the glass to her lips and looked over the rim at his face. "Mulder, what was the first thing you said to me?"

"Sorry, nobody down here but the FBI's most wanted," he said with the same wit and sarcasm he first delivered it to her.

"So you're not Eddie Van Blundht," she said relieved and took a sip. It was nice wine.

"Is that how it started?" Mulder asked.

He read her report, he knew what happened when Eddie as Mulder did when he came over. He brought wine, he suggested putting on a fire and asked her about herself. Apparently, for all of Eddie's qualities, as Mulder he wasn't a bad date. The embarrassment of the situation still caused her to flush from time to time. 

The timer on the oven rang and Mulder set his glass on the table that Scully noticed had been set for two. She followed him into the kitchen where the most delicious smell of butter chicken was wafting from the stove.

"Have a seat at the table, I'll bring it out," he instructed gently and she walked slowly back to the dining area.

They fed themselves butter chicken including fresh simmered tomatoes and pecans with naan bread and jasmine rice. Mulder had yet to make so much as toast in front of her and when he ate a homecooked meal it was usually ate whatever leftovers she had in her fridge. Where did these culinary skills come from?

Scully pushed away her plate and rubbed a hand across her full belly. “Wow.”

“Good wow, or bad wow?”

“You can cook,” Scully said in astonishment.

“I can follow a recipe,” he admitted and took their plates into the kitchen.

She made her way into the living room, carrying a fresh glass of wine and looked around at the living room. A picture of his sister sat on his desk, another one of his parents, candid and by a lake on the back of his bookshelf. There was nothing recent and somehow that made her heart ache. If the cancer took her, who would Mulder have in his life? He didn't imagine the Gunmen posed for many photos.

Mulder came up behind her, his hand brushing from her lower back up and she turned slowly.

“Just the two pictures,” she noted.

“No one ever took a picture of us,” Mulder replied with a shrug.

When she looked at him she saw more than the blank expression he could use as a mask with everyone else. She saw his pain in his hazel eyes and the longing there. The wine in her system mixed with the evening spent together made her feel a little lightheaded. She didn't dare take her eyes off Mulder, just to see if his face twitched or gave some sign he would change his mind. 

“What do you think would happen if I kissed you tonight?” he asked, inching closer.

She was still where she stood, curious why at death’s door she suddenly found herself interesting to men.

“Don’t,” she replied, not entirely meaning it and her cheeks flushing. She wasn't sure why she said that. Her body vibrated at the thought of him kissing her after preparing a meal. Maybe she knew she wouldn't be able to stop herself at just the kiss. Even after a long night in bed with Ed Jerse she realized she was using the poor woman's substitute for the real thing. No matter how good the sex was, Dana, you can't deny what you really wanted. Why was she saying don't?

“The world might end,” he murmured.

Mulder pressed his lips to hers and they shared a chaste yet heated kiss. Not the first for them and possibly not the last. His long fingers wrapped around her wrist and she stood still, enjoying the feeling of his lips against hers, his body inches away and fighting the urge to pull into him.

Scully pulled away first and covered her mouth. “I should go.”

“Are you mad?” Mulder asked, sounding like the boy who got a bad report card. Not that Mulder would ever get a bad report card.

Her blue eyes looked up at him and she put her hand on his cheek, brushing his lower lip with the pad of her thumb. “No.”

“Do you want to stay?” Mulder offered as she moved towards the door.

Scully raised an eyebrow and shook her head. “Not tonight.”

Mulder nodded. “Okay. Good night, Scully.”

 


	3. Gratitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Emily.

 

Scully stood outside the clean-room Emily was in and watched the monitors tell her information she already knew. No matter what she wanted, no matter how much she loved this little girl, she could not save her. To have the training as a doctor but not the ability to save her was a wound that would not heal. The smell of disinfectant and body odor along with the sterile paper gowns they forced her to wear for most of her visits with her daughter lingered on her hair and clothes.

 

A mix of shock and forced understanding flashed across Mulder’s eyes when she told him she wanted to be alone and he nodded, giving her one last brush of casual affection before allowing her the space she needed. She couldn’t crawl into that bed and lay with her daughter with Mulder watching. He might try to climb in there too and he barely fit in one of the beds when it was just him.

 

When she finally left the hospital it was early in the morning. Emily had passed in the night and Scully had held onto her as long as she could. They made sure she went comfortably and the suffering was minimal. It was for Emily but Dana Scully had a gaping hole in her heart that couldn’t be mended with morphine or a well placed surgical suture.

 

At some point she would have to arrange a funeral and a burial. The nurse handed her a manilla envelope with information to help her with such a process and her heart ached for every other parent before her who had to be handed such a packet.

 

She knocked softly on Mulder’s door and he opened it, half asleep with his hair sticking up in all directions and wearing only his boxer shorts.

 

“Is she gone?” he asked, knowing the answer already.

 

She would have gone back to Bill and Tara’s but she couldn’t be around them right now and Mulder understood that. During this whole process he had been compassionate, present and there for her in all the right ways that mattered but in the end, this was her loss. Her lost chance of having a child, of motherhood and all the messes and memories that came along with it.

 

The kicks of a child inside of her, moving and pushing on her body while it made hers its home. The pain of childbirth, the sweating and swearing. For a brief moment Scully could see herself in a hospital gown, her swollen feet in stirrups at 40 weeks pregnant and swearing like a sailor at the indescribable pain of childbirth. She tried to push that idea out of her mind since the person at the other end of the tirade of colourful language would be Mulder. That would be weird.

 

Scully nodded and her fortitude crumbled. He pulled her inside the room and to his body, her face meeting his bare chest. Strong arms wrapped around her like a comforting blanket after a cold night and she let out the pain and anguish she had been unable to burden her family with.

 

Mulder tried to be a balm, the thing that would heal that hurt he couldn’t stop as she was for him so many times throughout their partnership. But he carried a burden she didn’t. The guilt from her abduction would never end. They took her, they used her body as a science experiement and nearly kill her with an inoperable cancer. They bred children from her eggs and took away her own chances of bearing her own. All for the truth they were both searching for.

 

Eventually she pulled away from him and wiped her nose on a tissue found in her jacket pocket. “I need to get going.”

 

“You should stay.” Mulder walked around her and pulled off her jacket. “Is your go-bag in the car?”

 

They had a habit of having an essentials bag in every rental car they drove. Change of underwear, new shirt, socks and supply of toiletries. Even on a family holiday for Christmas on the west coast, the habit stuck.

 

“Yeah, it’s in there,” she nodded.

 

Mulder dressed quickly and went down to her car to retrieve it. When he returned she was already in the shower, the bathroom door slightly ajar. He set her bag on the bathroom and tried to ignore the sobs coming from behind the curtain.

 

There was a note on the bathroom counter for her to get some sleep and he would be back in a couple of hours. She dressed in one of his T-shirts, knowing he wouldn’t mind, and a clean pair of panties, climbed into the opposite side of where he had been sleeping and drifted off.

 

He came back with hot coffee, bagels with cream cheese and whole fruit. He found her standing at the sink, brushing her teeth with her jeans pulled up under his crisp white T-shirt. It must have been his undershirt from the day previous because it smelled like his aftershave and a bit of his sweat. She liked it.

 

“That looks good on you, Scully,” he teased, picking at the edge of her borrowed attire. He picked up his own toothbrush and began his own morning oral hygiene routine.

 

Scully spit her mouthful of toothpaste into the sink and she rinsed the brush. “Do you mind?”

 

Mulder spit into the basin and shook his head. “Not at all. The fantasy would have been you in one of my dress shirts and a pair of heels but-”

 

“Too bad I left those black ones you like at Bill and Tara’s,” she sighed and he nearly choked. She didn’t hide the smirk on her face.

 

“Coffee is on the coffee table, there,” he said trying to regain some composure.

 

Mulder sat down next to her on the loveseat and took a healthy bite of the bagel she finished dressing carefully with a plastic knife.

 

“I need to go to the hospital,” she said, taking back the bagel from him. She took a small bite and sighed. Real cream cheese. “Bill called and said Tara had the baby.”

 

Mulder nodded and offered to go with her. She accepted and felt relieved he wasn’t trying to avoid Bill but then again, he wouldn’t know how to blame Mulder for Emily. If he did, Mulder would let him have a pass.

 

With full bellies, sleep in their systems and no other reason because she wanted to, she leaned into Mulder and pressed her lips to his. Mulder’s eyes widened and then closed as he enjoyed the feeling of her soft lips against his. He sat up more in the couch and cupped one hand in her hair, extending the kiss into something beyond two colleagues. Her mouth opened slightly and a tongue darted past his lips to taste him.

 

Scully slid one hand up into his hair as they kissed and she held him to her mouth for what felt like the perfect timing of a deep kiss. Scully pulled away first and Mulder’s eyes opened with shock.

 

“What was that for?” he asked watching her for signs of regret.

 

Thankfully, he saw none, just gratitude.

 

“For all of this,” she said resolutely and squeezed his hand. “I’m lucky to have you as my friend, Mulder.”

 

Whatever that meant.


	4. Another Sock in the Jaw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Triangle, before Arcadia. The agents had the X-Files back and Mulder has some thoughts for Scully.

They had been back in the basement for a few weeks and Mulder would not stop looking at her with that longing and pained look he often gave to evidence they no longer had in their hands. It was late at the J Edgar Building and nothing but the hum of the air conditioner, the slipping of the papers sliding against one another like lovers in bed and Mulder cracking seeds could be heard through the basement halls. Mulder had loosened his tie, shed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves in an attempt to get comfortable while Scully maintained the air of professionalism by keeping her attire as it were. The top two buttons of her blouse had been undone, as a way of torturing Mulder for whatever sins he had committed with Scully in his mind the previous night. The straight lines of her skirt and jacket were to act as a shell of armor.

 

They said to other agents in the building, she was Special Agent Dana Scully, MD and she was not to be reduced to some fantasy of yours. Little did she know most of the suits she wore just perpetuated those fantasies. He liked them even more than he liked seeing her in scrubs - doctor mode and spouting off four syllable words to describe to him how or what happened to the deceased in front of her. He was a sick man, he knows this.

 

Scully cleared her throat as she felt his eyes on her again and she tried to repress the blush that came up her neck and to her cheeks.

 

"Mulder," she started, holding the Raskub file in front of her.

 

"Sorry," he apologized quickly, worried he was busted.

 

He knew she knew he was watching her but he couldn�t stop thinking about The Queen Anne, kissing Scully in 1939 and confessing his love for her. Then the brush off.

 

"Mulder?" she said again.

 

"Sorry?"

 

"I'm trying to ask you if you know where our copy of the follow-up report we submitted was for this?" she asked and turned around back to the filing cabinet, her fingers moving aside each file that wasn't the one she needed. "I attached it but it's gone."

 

There were a few beats of silence and Scully resigned to the fact that he didn't know or care.

 

"Why did you say that?" he asked.

 

Her hands stilled for a moment, knowing exactly what he was referring to.

 

"You were drugged," she reminded him and went back to moving aside each file in search of XF1999-J698.

 

"I was not," he insisted, standing up and approaching her at the cabinet.

 

"You had been hit in the head God knows how many times and you were on some very strong pain killers," Scully replied, she closed the cabinet picked up the one she left resting on top of it. "Dilaudid has a common side effect of vivid dreams, memory loss..."

 

"Except I remember what I said, I remember what happened on that boat and everything I saw. It was real." Mulder interrupted, coming to her closer. She turned around to retort and took a step back into the cabinet, surprised he was standing in front of her. "I kissed you."

 

Her pink lips opened slightly and she tried to form words. "When?"

 

"In 1939," he said, his voice was low and thick. He noticed the pink hue had returned to her cheeks. "I thought I might never see you again."

 

"That wasn't me," she retorted, her voice barely above a whisper. "That was part of the-"

 

"No, it was you," he insisted again. "I thought I wouldn't see you again so I kissed you."

 

A wet tongue darted out to moisten her bottom lip and she looked into his eyes. Surely, he was joking. This would be part of some horrible ruse, he would make a sarcastic remark and leave her standing in a puddle in her own lacy black panties that she decided to wear under her charcoal suit that morning. She was feeling adventurous. Normally it was white or pink under harsh black skirts and jackets.

 

"You kissed me?" she repeated.

 

Mulder put both hands on either side of the filing cabinet and she backed into it, the top edge of the office furniture digging into her back.

 

"Yes, I kissed you." His face inched closer to hers. "On the mouth."

 

He added the last part for good measure since they seemed to be the king and queen of kissing each other everywhere but on their mouths except for those other times they never talked about. Foreheads, cheeks, hands, even a peck on the shoulder.

 

"You kissed me," she repeated.

 

The words stumbled out of her mouth and she couldn't stop them. She couldn't wrap her mind around the idea that Mulder chose to kiss her in case he would never see her again. Was that who they were? They were partners, colleagues, and friends but were they the kind of friends who kissed each other?

 

"You kissed me back for a minute," he told her and his mouth inched closer. "Then you punched me in the eye."

 

Scully, still holding onto the original file backed her head away. He kept his body an inch away from hers but she could feel the heat radiating off of his. Mulder always ran warmer than she did by four or five degrees.

 

"I don't care if this earns me a hook in the jaw, Scully," he said his mouth now dangerously close to hers. "It's worth it."

 

His lips met hers and he held them there for a moment, reveling in the experience of Scully�s plump lips against his. Her lips parted and his tongue entered her mouth where it was cool and slick. She tasted like coffee and peppermint. She tasted like she smelled, sweet and fresh. Mulder had the flavor of sunflower seeds, coffee and the masculine tang that could only be described as him.

 

The file fell to the floor and Scully moved her hands into Mulder�s hair, her fingers tickling the back of his neck. As his tongue massaged against hers and teeth nipped at lips his body pressed against hers, the evidence of his desire pressing into her abdomen. He wouldn�t allow her mouth to pull away and she tried to fight back a moan.

 

What could be described as the most passionate kiss she had ever had to date, it was full of promise, brimming with intent of future acts and lacking nothing of a preview of what would happen if they ever consummated this relationship. His hips ground into hers and she cursed wearing the pencil skirt and her legs were bound together. Her mouth pulled away and she tried to regain her breath as his lips and teeth nipped down her jawline to the tender flesh of her neck.

 

A moan escaped her lips and Mulder sunk his teeth in.

 

_What were they doing?_

 

A sense of all reason and logic was quickly running out the door of their basement office as his hands started to explore her body. The curve of her hip to the rounded arch of her ass then up to her flat abdomen to her breast. 

 

Scully placed a hand quickly over his and he pulled away slightly.

 

"What?" his breath was ragged and the part of his brain that controlled coherent thoughts wasn't working. His entire body was searching for ways to climb inside her.

 

"Mulder, we just got back here," she panted, her cheeks flushed and her lips swollen from his mouth. "What are we doing?"

 

"I don't know," he whispered as he dipped his head to hers and placed a lingering kiss. It started again from there, more kisses, tongues sliding against one another and bodies pushing for more contact. 

 

The ding of the elevator alerted them there was more than just them in the building. Solid, masculine footsteps made their way down the corridor as Mulder darted behind the desk and Scully tried to smooth out her appearance. 

 

Skinner cleared his throat as he knocked on the door, slightly ajar. "Agents."

 

Mulder, who usually stood up when his boss entered the room, stayed where he was. "Uh, sir..."

 

"There's a case in California that needs your attention. I would have met with you in the morning but we need you in Arcadia Falls ASAP," he said, handing the file over to Scully. He studied her appearance, showing no reaction showing on his face to her obviously "just kissed" look. "It's an undercover assignment. As a married couple. The details are in there. Your flight leaves at 7 am."


End file.
